


Obsession

by lycanus1



Category: King Arthur (2004)
Genre: Bathing, Desire, Feels, Friends to Lovers, Longing, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6013873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lycanus1/pseuds/lycanus1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've become my obsession ... and I can't and won't give you up ... "</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The KA lads never were mine, still aren't mine and never will be. Everything you recognize, belongs to Jerry Bruckheimer and Touchstone Pictures – gods-damnit ! No copyright infringement is intended.

The Scout sat pensively, clad in only a clean towel, in a dark, quiet corner on one of the bath-house's marble benches. Wearily, he ran a hand slowly through the dark mass of braided hair, then threw his head back to rest against the cool stone wall and closed his eyes.

He was tired. Dead on his feet. And his body ached all over. He'd been away from the fort for over a week on a scouting mission and most of that time had been spent in the saddle. Bones and muscles - even ones he never realized he possessed - throbbed painfully. But the agony was nothing in comparison to the dull, obsessive ache of longing he felt in his heart. The desperate need to be with and the compulsive desire he felt for his lover.

Seven long, agonizing days and nights ...

The days hadn't been so bad. But the nights ? Those had been the worst. Endless hours where sleep had been elusive. Persistently eluding him, as his mind was filled with thoughts of the gifted Healer who'd unwittingly captured and held his heart. Thoughts and memories which kept him awake for hours on end. Images so vivid and alive that left him weary, angry, frustrated and yearning. Badly in need of release and unable to achieve the satisfaction he so desperately craved ...

But now he was back. And the first thing he intended to do - once he'd finished his ablutions - was to track down his soul mate. Hunt down, seduce and ravish his beloved silly. Maybe afterwards, he would finally be able to fall asleep. Thoroughly sated, at ease and loved in his partner's warm, loving embrace. That thought alone made him smile wistfully ... Longingly.

In the past, he'd always kept others at arms’ length. Hadn't wanted to become involved with anyone. Or deal with the pain of their loss. But somehow, the strapping Roxolani had succeeded where everyone else had failed. He'd broken through the younger man's defences. Not with brutal aggression, but with his shy, gentle, caring nature and wisdom. Inevitably, the proud Aorsi found himself falling.

Falling helplessly, irrevocably and completely _in_ love for the first time in his life ...

The gentle giant was constantly in his dreams and was all he could think of. Six foot three of pure, sleek, toned muscle, quiet strength and cool determination. Not conventionally handsome by any means, the Sarmatian Healer was a striking man. Many were daunted by his appearance and looked no further than the closely cropped stubble which covered his scalp and the long, cruel scar that ran down the left side of his face, barely missing his eye. A vicious, brutal reminder of how he'd cheated death on the battlefield ten years earlier.

But to the enigmatic Aorsi, the formidable, rugged, older knight was beautiful. In both appearance and nature ...

The unexpected sound of the door creaking open had him falling back into the alcove's shadows, instantly alert and reaching for the hunting knife which lay beside him on the bench. Long, slim fingers wrapped around the knife's hilt, grasping it firmly and with purpose.

The door closed with a dull thud. Footsteps could be heard padding softly as they traversed the cool marble floor. Each step dragged wearily until they came to an abrupt stop.

Curiosity got the better of him. Leaning slightly forward, yet still managing to remain cloaked in shadow, Tristan peered into the room to try and ascertain who the other occupant was. The torchlight flickered briefly, then threw a subtle, golden glow over the tall frame of the man who was silently unwinding the white towel from around his lean hips and preparing to enter the hot pool.

Gasping softly, Tristan immediately recognized him. He couldn't fail not to. It was the man who had captured and ensnared him completely. The man who'd taken over his thoughts and invaded his dreams. The man who made his body burn with desire and need and held his heart a willing captive. The man who had become and remained his obsession ...

Dagonet.

Tristan silently watched as the Healer's deft fingers had loosened the towel from around his trim waist. Saw how the material gradually slid down his lean hips, taut arse, thick, muscular thighs and long, toned legs to pool softly at his feet, the white cloth contrasting sharply with his tanned skin.

Dagonet turned and bent down to reach for the towel. His sleek muscles flexed beneath his skin. The innocent action caused the Scout to swiftly raise his right fist up to his mouth. He bit down on it. Hard. To smother the lustful moan of intense need that was threatening to escape from his lips.

Transfixed, he continued to study the older knight as he made his way to the edge of the pool. He noted how Dagonet gingerly rubbed the dark bruises on the small of his back and the fleeting, yet obvious grimace of pain that crossed his rugged features. As soon as he sank into the hot, herbal-infused water, Dagonet gave a low groan of relief and stretched out his long, lean frame and slowly felt the tension ease away from his aching muscles. Resting his back against the side of the pool, his arms outstretched on the marble edge, Dagonet sighed huskily, threw his head back and closed his silver eyes. He remained that way for a while. Still and at peace. His scarred, attractive face calm and relaxed, softened by the gently glow of the torchlight. He looked serene and temporarily free of all cares and woes. The only other times Tristan knew he appeared this way was when he slept, cradled protectively in his arms.

Spellbound, the Aorsi watched the water lap gently against his lover's battle-scarred, yet smooth skin, brushing tantalizingly against his nipples. He saw the Healer shift slightly, before dragging his right hand leisurely across his broad chest, his nimble fingers teasing the dark, sensitive nubs of flesh to hardening peaks. The hand slowly continued its descent across the impressive torso, beneath the water, past the taut, well-muscled abdomen until it reached its desired location.

Dagonet slowly, yet firmly began to stroke himself. His right hand moving surely and continuously over his long, thick, hardening shaft, from base to tip then back again in steady rhythm. His broad chest rose and fell agitatedly. The only sounds which could be heard in the room was Dagonet's deep, uneven breathing and the water splashing against the side of the pool as the strokes gradually became faster and increasingly erratic as he neared completion.

The Scout knew the exact moment when his lover was about to come undone. He could sense it ... Feel it ... Almost taste Dagonet's salty-honeyed essence. The larger man's powerful frame suddenly tensed. Then with a hoarse, gutteral cry, he came violently, covering his belly and chest with a gushing stream of fiery, sticky liquid. To Tristan's astonishment, he heard the Roxolani cry out his name repeatedly. Like a mantra. With absolute reverence, desire, intense yearning ... and with love ...

Dry-mouthed, the younger Sarmatian moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue. As soon as he'd heard Dagonet cry out his name, his heart had begun to race madly and he felt his blood course wildly through his veins until it pooled into his loins, making him hard and throbbing with need. He flexed his numbed fingers and was surprized to still find them tightly clasped around the bone hilt of the hunting knife. Carefully and quietly, he released the blade and laid it on the bench, before rising to his feet with lithe grace. He approached the pool silently, cat-like, and gazed down at its occupant. There was an expression of intense hunger on his noble face as he crouched down. His molten, golden eyes caressed his lover's flushed and sated face.

"Tristan ..." Dagonet whispered wistfully, unaware of the younger knight's close proximity. "I wish ... wish you were here. With me. I want you ... Need you - badly ..." The Roxolani's voice was husky with longing, raw with need and had the Scout swallowing hard in anticipation. Deciding to take the bull by the horns, Tristan carefully leant forward and made his presence known.

"You have me for as long as _you_ want me, my wolf ... In every and any way imaginable. I'm yours, my love. No one else's ... _Only_ yours ... " he stated gruffly, reaching down to briefly brush his lips against the Healer's scarred, left temple.

On hearing his shield mate's gravelly, faintly accented voice, the Healer's head shot up and he gazed at the handsome Aorsi through glazed, startled, silver eyes. Then a sweet, gentle smile appeared, lighting up his sober countenance. He suddenly twisted his upper body and dragged the still towel-clad knight onto his lap. The unexpected act caused the water to splash and flow over the side of the pool.

Tristan laughed and protested half-heartedly, loving the feel of being held flush against his lover's warm, slick, hard body. Fascinated, he watched the tiny rivulets of water meander down Dagonet's chest and over the planes and ridges of his abdomen. He trailed a forefinger after one of them, then teasingly, circled and idly flicked a nipple. Tristan grinned as it instantly hardened in response to his touch.

"You're here ? You're _actually_ here ..." Dagonet rasped, his voice full of wonder as he raised his trembling right hand to tenderly stroke Tristan's tattooed cheek. "I truly thought I'd dreamt of you, my Scout. But you're here ..." His hand came to lightly rest on his lover's nape and he slowly drew his face to his. He claimed Tristan's unresisting lips in a lingering, tender kiss.

The kiss did not stay that way for long. It swiftly evolved. Becoming heated, passionate and all-consuming as the intense hunger and need overpowered them. It was Dagonet who broke free first. He trailed his right hand lazily down from Tristan's neck until it rested directly above the Scout's racing heart.

"I daren’t hope you'd be back so soon. I could only dream of it," he admitted falteringly. "You're all I've been able to think of, Tris. All I want ... All I need. And love ... I crave you - constantly. My world begins and ends with you alone, my love. You've become _my_ obsession ... and I can’t and won’t give you up ..."

Tristan smiled slowly. Genuinely. Happily. All his feelings for the Roxolani shone brilliantly in the golden depths of his striking eyes. He rested his forehead gently against his beloved Healer's, pressed his lithe, wiry body close to him, his toned arms entwined possessively, lovingly, around the older warrior's neck.

" _I'm_ yours, Dag ... Yours alone. Never forget I love you. _You’_ _re_ my obsession as much as I’m yours ..." And with that telling remark, Tristan reached up to hungrily claim his lover's lips once more.

**Finis**


End file.
